THE VAMPIRE UNDERGROUND

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Grip under here,” Paul said, motioning toward the bottom of the chair.

Brin bent down. “Is that supposed to be a joke?” She gripped the back right side of the chair and leaned in toward Anaya’s ear. “I’m here, Anaya. I’m gonna save you like you saved me.”

Anaya turned her face toward Brin. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and a huge piece of duct tape strapped over her mouth. She looked like she was fading, like she had been injected with an anesthetic poison.

“You ready?” Paul said.

“No.”

The decibel level of the cheering grew to an obnoxious peak. Brin knew they needed to get Anaya up to the stage, or Paul’s venomous father was going to storm back down and split his son and phony girlfriend in two.

“OK… here goes…” Paul said. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

Brin lifted. She pushed.

Nothing happened.

“Are you pushing?” Paul said.

“Of course. Are you?”

“Yes.”

They tried three times. The third time they got Anaya’s chair off the floor for two seconds, before it crashed back down again.

“Shit,” Brin said.

“She’s huge!” Paul shouted.

“Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not… I just… we need help!”

As if Paul was the actual leader of this large vampire clan and had his own minions at every corner of the Underground, two additional vampires, both teens, appeared at the bottom of the stairs and headed over to help.

They chuckled at each other. One said, “Having problems with Chubbs? That’s what we’ve named her. Chubbs!”

The other one said, “You know what they say about the fat ones, right? The blood… it comes out in chunks.”

Brin threw up in her mouth a little as the two ingratiating vamps kneeled down. Both said in unison, “One, two, three, go!”

All four pushed, successfully lifting Anaya and her chair off the ground. They started marching up the stairs.

“…and for the young pretty boy, I announce the following four numbers…” Droz said into the microphone to the bloodthirsty audience, “twenty-eight… one-hundred-and-sixteen…”

Brin and Paul slammed up against each other in the back, trying their best not to drop Anaya down the stairwell.

“What’s the plan?” Brin whispered.

“Just follow my lead,” he said.

“We’re gonna die.”

“We’re not gonna die.”

“Your dad’s gonna kill us when he finds out—”

“Shh,” he said, as the harsh spotlights from above struck not the center of the stage but the audience members surrounding the stage. Another light, this one the brightest of all, focused on Paul’s father. The sitting, nearly naked humans in the center couldn’t be seen at all. “Just, Brin, please… you have to trust me.”

Trust him? Really? I’m supposed to trust another vampire, one whose own father is the leader of a clan who feasts on unsuspecting tourists? I’m supposed to trust a vampire who’s taking me into the center of a slaughterhouse? I’m supposed to trust somebody who very well could be faking his loyalty to me in order to murder me and drink my blood the first chance he gets?

But then Brin thought, I don’t have a choice.

“Ahh, there she is,” Droz said, putting his arm out as Brin, Paul, and the two teenaged vampires set Anaya’s chair down next to Dylan, Lavender, and Chace.

A handful of creatures in the audiences were standing, rocking back and forth, wanting nothing more than to rush the stage to start enjoying their bloody treat. 

“So tell me!” Droz shouted to the cheering crowd. “Who here wants to see our collection of humans on the stage?”

The applause gave Brin an instant headache. It was like these vampires hadn’t gotten a taste of blood in years. Some were hugging each other; many were jumping up and down. Some were even kissing hard-core, with their wet sloppy tongues rolling around in each other’s mouths. Brin looked away.

She turned toward Paul at the exact second he slapped his hand against Brin’s left pocket. The one that held the pocket knife. 

“You’ve wondered when it would come in use,” Paul whispered. “Take it out now. We only have one shot at this.”

Brin nodded and peered to the left to see six more vampires standing behind the other three chairs. She had a strong idea of what Paul wanted to do with the knives, but she had no idea how they were going to get past the other vamps in order to free Chace, Dylan, and Lavender.

Her question was answered barely five seconds later. “Clint and Worrell, come up here,” Droz said. The two vampires standing behind Dylan left their human alone and approached the cocky emcee on the right of the stage. They made their ways under the spotlight post-haste, obnoxious smiles plastered on their white, chalky faces.

Paul leaned in toward Brin. “Start cutting,” he said before tiptoeing toward Dylan’s chair, miraculously undetected, and squatting down.

Brin grabbed the rope tied behind Anaya with one hand and gripped her knife in the other. She tried not to kneel down or make any sudden movements, even though she was well hidden in the darkness.

She knew her time was limited. It was now or never.

Brin quietly gulped, then started breaking Anaya free from the chair.